Life with Arfur

An irreverent look at living with arthritis

The Filey Nightmare

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It’s two days now since we got back from Filey and I think I’m sufficiently recovered from the horrors to recount some of it.

Joe, our crazy (and arthritic) Jack Russell was hospitalised, in need of rest, so there was nothing slowing us down on Monday as we set off for the coast. The motorways and trunks roads were clear so even with a stop for breakfast outside York, we were in Filey by 12:15.

That was the good bit. It’s also where the good bit ended. Filey was overcast, threatening rain and perishing cold. We soon learned it wasn’t restricted to Filey. Scarborough and Bridlington were just as miserable and cold, and it was only when we got to Whitby on the final day that things brightened up.

But by then, I’d already made a video detailing the disaster, which you can see below. It was one of the highlights of the week.

You’ll recall I had a bad fall in the garden a month back. I really should have gone to A & E but I knew that they would probably set it in cast to let the ligaments heal and that would have scotched Filey. So I didn’t bother.

And did I know about it? (Note: this is a rhetorical question. I don’t expect you to know the answer. I already know it.)

One of the biggest problems with Arfur is the way he acts up when there’s an injury to any other part of the body. And he did act up. The missus dragged me round Scarborough, Bridlington and Whitby, and although I started out well every day, the pain of that ankle gradually wore me down. It also caused my fetlock, knee, thigh and hip to ache. Refusing to be outdone by the right, my left side also began to scream. At the close of play every day, I was walking like a geriatric plodder who didn’t know which leg to limp on.

And, of course, on that final day in Whitby, I forgot to take the walking stick with me. I bought a cheap one and that now stays permanently in the car.

On Thursday night, I’d had enough so we set off home, but matters were to get even worse. Friday morning, Her Indoors sent me to the supermarket and by the time I got back, I felt like my leg and hip were about to give way completely, so after collecting Joe from the vet’s, I spent most of yesterday afternoon resting. And he was so overjoyed to see us, he jumped on my bloody legs. Rotten little sod.

Am I downhearted? Damn right I am. I’m off to the doc’s on Monday to see how I can repair this leg and in the meantime, I’m spending most of the day horizontal, and for once, it’s nothing to do with an excess of alcohol.

6 Comments

  1. Thanks for the entertainment . . . always best at someone else’s expense.

  2. It’s nice to know that while I’m hobbling round like a refugee from Jack Sparrow’s latest romp, I’m at least entertaining others. 😉

    Thanks for stopping by, Gordon

  3. Could be worse. Mate of mine was moved from Miami University to teach at Scarborough for a year. He thought THAT was bad. His next gig was Fairbanks, Alaska; snow, earthquake and avalanches where Temps start BELOW the Freeze mark. And, teaching Shakespeare to Eskimo’s ain’t easy, either !

  4. I bet he got a cool reception, too. 🙂 Thanks for stopping by, Jack.

  5. Poor you, David, but thanks for the giggle. Can’t take the grin off my face. Seriously though, a friend fell and continued to walk on his painful leg for days. Visit to Doc, leg in plaster, and due to delay in seeing him, said leg needs a further four weeks in a cast – it will be eight weeks on the 24th! Sure hope your outcome is more positive. xxx

  6. I’m getting there, Christine. According to the doc, it’s just old age creeping up on me.

    Thanks for stopping by.

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